St. Andrews Episcopal Church

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Luke’s Passion Narrative
HOMILY FOR PALM SUNDAY 2007, 4/1/7

The disciples were thrilled with the entrance, a well-planned, self conscious pageant of the traditional entry of The Anointed One – Messiah – into Jerusalem, Jesus involved in detailed planning: advance men in place, advertising time & place; code words et to release the colt - a
great success as people, wearing palm leaves, responded with “hosanna:” “Save us, we beseech Thee!” – traditional greeting of the man “coming in the Name of the Lord.” But Jesus sensed a
sea-change, events spiraling out of control. The welcome had been so enthusiastic the disciples couldn’t imagine anything bad. Jesus could. Now on Roman RADAR from upsetting tables in the temple market, fearful concern lurked deep inside. Nervously he prayed hard for guidance and calm. Suddenly the crowd, Judas identifying him to temple police. Under arrest, Jesus heard his best friend deny he even knew him, heard soldiers mocking. Six days between “Hosanna!” and “Crucify!”

On Saint Patrick’s Day an e-mail from a General Convention friend made me think of what Jesus may have been thinking/feeling, convincing me that Jesus must have been part Irish – or that William Butler Yeats really understood Palm Sunday. He wrote: “Being Irish, I have an abiding sense of tragedy which sustains me through temporary periods of joy.” We have a lot to learn from that. Most of us grow up assuming that joy is the norm when more than likely moments of peaceful happiness are a thin veneer covering over the tragedies of our lives. To turn Yeats’ quote on its head: we deceive ourselves with an abiding sense of joy which we expect to sustain us through temporary periods of tragedy. Life isn’t like that. Each of us plays a personal version of ‘WHEEL OF FORTUNE,” all those wonderful opportunities to land on with each spin, but interspersed, those slots of “LOSE A TURN or the dreadful BANKRUPT, wiping out all the love or money we’ve accumulated. In spite of all our attempts, all those joys don’t trump one tragedy when it hits. The pain just hurts. Remembered joy isn’t necessarily comforting salve, sometimes those good times just add to the pain.

Or we attempt to avoid issues under a thin veneer of normalcy, as if all is well. On this Palm Sunday I can’t help thinking about the tragedy of Iraq, our sons and daughters killed and crippled – I’ve visited them at the VA Hospital in Palo Alto. Iraqi citizens and insurgents killed and wounded. They are people, too. All the grief on all sides. In some ways we’re really not supposed to talk about it, but reading the letters of soldiers killed there, printed in last week’s NEWSWEEK personalized it and broke my heart. But why intrude something political on a religious day? Jesus was killed because of politics, and if religion cannot touch reality we’ve lost something absolutely crucial. So maybe Palm Sunday should reflect Yeats: “I have an abiding since of tragedy which sustains me through temporary periods of joy.”

As Christians it is only by walking through authentic tragedy in our lives that we experience authentic, abiding joy, not just cheap, momentary, grace. Liturgically we can feel the emotional and physical pain of Good Friday. As I participate in today’s rehearsal of Jesus’ passion, I live in hope that as many people will some day attend the Good Friday service as come on Easter Day, Easter joy somehow in direct proportion to the experience of tragedy we remember this Friday, that may help us experience the incredible burst of energy and insight and utter surprise that dawned on the disciples when life unexpectedly triumphed over death.

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